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Brian Heir

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Member Since: Feb, 2007

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The Peak
By Brian Heir
Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Rated "G" by the Author.

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Very Short Story about the end of something. A man and a woman climb a mountain and they turn around. No dialogue!

The two were alone. No one else existed just then, from the perspective of this perch, high atop the Mountains and well above tree line. Marisa and Shawn had climbed half the day to this place that would bring them closer to the solstice and to each other, separated only by thin alpine air.
The couple sat down at the highest point of the snow-covered ridge, which was just wide enough for stepping one foot in front of the other. On the west side of the peak was a forty-five degree slope, which appeared to flatten out about a mile below, where the snow cover yielded to bare rock. Falling down this side was not an appealing option, and would offer only slight consolation versus the peril of the east face, which was nearly vertical. On that side, summer thaws had exposed more rock, from a dozen feet below the peak all the way to the valley below. Try as it may to cling and hold its line, the past winterís snow had been forced to yield and recede.
Marisa looked down, her legs dangling over her side of the mountain, the heels of her hiking boots kicking back absently against the steep slope. There was sadness in the inability of the snow to stay here, and she contemplated the unpreventable end of all things. Thawing, dripping pieces of white let go beneath her. She watched them slide off, freefalling to the abyss. There was a faint sense of guilt for having accelerated the erosion of what was left of this heaven sent precipitous gift. Marisa had the uneasy feeling that she did not deserve to dwell here.
Shawn sat facing the other way, his legs draped over the west side as he squinted into the sun. His pants made creaking sounds against snow under his thighs. Sitting arms length apart, pondering opposite slopes, he and Marisa turned their heads to face each other. Shawn bent forward towards a kiss, and she suddenly turned away. He kept looking at her, as though her features were still pointed towards him. Several seconds later he relented, slowly turned his head back to square and pretended to once again survey the western horizon.
Finally, Marisa looked up at Shawn, regarding him as he regained his feet, stared across the Western sky and gestured with his head towards the lowering sun. He considered that perhaps they had journeyed too far and stayed too long. It was time to retreat, to turn around before the flat light brought difficult shadows, and the inevitable cooling that comes at the end of day.

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Reviewed by april hallmark 6/8/2007
i really liked this. had a crisp and refreshing feel to it.
Reviewed by Brian Heir 2/20/2007
Thanks a lot, "Victoria Heiret" That is my 11 year old daughter's pen name. I'm afraid I have been schooled.
Reviewed by Victoria Heiret 2/20/2007
I thought this story had detailed description, but Shawn looked @ Marisa way 2 many times.

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